


Run Away With Me

by hunkyharris (orphan_account)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hunkyharris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Bray/Dean "met in a bar" AU.<br/>“Maybe if we’d met in a different place, at a different time, we could have been together,” Bray presses a kiss to Dean’s hair. “Soul mates, even. Some call it destiny, some call it fate, but whatever it is, it could easily be considered the cruelest creature on the planet.”</p><p>Dean thinks back to what Bray had said earlier. “As much as the moon needs the sun, they can’t be together.”</p><p>“But, fate won’t stop me from checking in on you every once in awhile.”</p><p>With a few days off the road in Las Vegas, Dean looks to frequent a familiar bar, only this time, he runs into a not-so familiar face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this fic was a little rushed, what, with me trying to write it before I became uninterested with the topic completely. So, here’s another Bray/Dean fic, maybe sooner or later, I might actually write about another pairing. But, for right now, Ambyatt is nice.

"The way I look at it, Rome, we don't get many entire weeks off, so enjoy it while we can."

Dean stands outside a sports bar he's come to know over the past few years of his life in Las Vegas, Nevada, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he speaks into his cell phone. He's been looking forward to having a break from the non-stop schedule of being on the road: traveling from city to city, and just taking time to relax back at his home. It's nice to be in a familiar place for a change.

"Yeah," Roman agrees from the other line. "it'll be nice to sleep in."

"Damn right it will be," Dean says. "but, anyway, I'll see you at the airport, I'm gonna go enjoy my vacation."

"Alright," Roman replies, and Dean can practically hear him smiling. "stay out of trouble, I'll talk to you later."

"Can't make any promises, Rome," Dean grins, finishing the cigarette and flicking it off the porch. He hangs up the phone, and shoves it back in his pocket.

It's late in the evening, and the sun is setting below the horizon, leaving this pretty dark pinkish hue to the sky. The bar isn't crowded during this time of the day, it's usual patrons preoccupied with leaving work or getting their last minute chores in before a relaxing night filled with drowning their sorrows and questioning their life decisions. But, Dean sees as he walks in through the door, there are a few bar flies that frequent the bar from open to close.

The bar is one of Dean’s particular favorites. It’s isolated, almost, away from the crowds, tourists, and blinding bright lights that Las Vegas has to offer. Dean likes the city, just not all the time.

Dean can't really remember the last time he was here, it might have been a couple of years ago. Maybe even before he was introduced to the busying schedule that came with being signed over to the WWE, a time that had left him with more free time to run back home when things got too much. Either way, nobody recognizes him or even spares a glance in his direction as Dean takes a seat at one of the vacated leather-padded stools at the very end of the bar.

He holds up a finger to the bartender and orders a beer before allowing his eyes to shift around the room and take in the familiar atmosphere. A few truckers walk in through the door, chattering loudly amoungst themselves as they make a direct beeline for a vacated booth. The bar is captured in the bright glow of the neon signs hung above the bar, soft rock is playing faintly in the background, and faded posters advertising various beers and bands are placed along the walls. It's just like he remembered it to be, back years ago when he was a troubled kid staggering his way in here, looking to pick a fight and getting wasted. Maybe much hasn't changed.

It's not long before night falls and people start piling in and Dean's already went through two and a half beers. The music is cranked up and the chatter gets louder, and Dean's too preoccupied with staring blankly into his drink that he almost doesn't notice when someone slips into the stool beside him.

"What flock did you wander away from, boy?"

Dean jumps, startled, and turns to look at the man beside him with wide eyes. The man's got a pretty substantial beard going on and he's wearing a Hawaiian shirt that seems as loud and bright as the neon lights over head. He looks about Dean's age.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," the man smirks, offering his hand for Dean to shake. "I'm Bray."

Dean allows himself to relax, and he chuckles to himself for being so jumpy as he takes Bray’s hand and shakes it. He starts to introduce himself but Bray cuts him off.

"Let me guess,” Bray holds Dean’s hand in his for a moment, the smirk turning into a friendly grin, before allowing Dean to withdraw his hand. “you're Dean, am I right?"

"Yeah,” Dean replies, his face contorting with slight confusion. “how'd you know my name?"

"Well, I could try and be enchanting by saying that I found out through the whispers of the wind, or I could just say that the fine gentleman over there," Bray gestures over towards the bartender that now, as Dean gets a good look at him, he vaguely recognizes from his previous visits. "told me who you were."

"Why did you want to know who I was?" Dean’s curious, and he’s also slightly creeped out, but mostly curious.

"You looked like you were in need of some company,” Bray answers innocently, giving a shrug. “and I couldn't help but be the man to give you that company."

He turns to hold up two fingers to the bartender, who’s now approaching them. “What he was having.” Bray tells the man, and he nods in response, removing Dean’s now empty glass.

Bray turns back to Dean. "And buy you a drink, of course."

Dean feels himself grin at this. "I was just about to cut myself off, but if you insist on buying me a beer, then who am I to turn it down?"

The bartender returns with two draft beers and sets them down in front of them. Dean automatically grabs for his and takes a sip.

"So, you seem to know so much about me, why don’t you tell me about you?” Dean asks, wiping some of the foam away from his mouth with his jacket sleeve.

“What’s there to tell?” Bray replies easily, taking a sip from his drink as well.

“Well,” Dean ponders for a question. “where are you from?”

“I was born and raised in Lafayette, Louisiana.”

“Louisiana,” Dean hums. “that’s a little while away, what brought you all the way out here?”

“I like to help people,” Bray admits. “and there are people placed all over the world that are in need of my help, not only in Louisiana.”

“How do you help people, exactly?”

“I find them when they’re broken and tired, and I fix them,” Bray explains and Dean takes another sip from his drink, his eyes never leaving the other man’s face. “I show them a new meaning to life and I give them a purpose. I help them see the error of their ways and I build them into something they’ve never been before. Then, when the time comes, and they’re ready, I set them free in the world to start life over again.”

“So, like, rehabilitation, almost?” Dean summarizes. “Charity work?”

“Something like that,” Bray smiles around the rim of his glass as he brings it up to his lips. “what about you, what do you do?”

“Ironically enough, the exact opposite,” Dean replies with a sigh. “I fight. I tear people down rather than build them up.”

“But, it doesn’t make your soul anymore tarnished than mine, I assure you.”

“Yeah,” Dean doesn’t act like he finds Bray’s statement odd in the slightest, and he just goes along with it. “tarnished doesn’t even begin to describe it, my soul’s more along the lines of a gaping black hole at this point.”

“Nonsense,” says Bray, and Dean lets his gaze fall back to his drink. “your soul shines as bright as a million stars.”

Dean can’t seem to find words to reply to this with, as he drags his finger around the rim of his glass. He’s never heard such a ... interesting sentence directed towards him, and he’s definitely never thought of his soul in such a manner.

“You’re a good person, Dean, I can tell,” Bray continues, like he’s known Dean his entire life. “I can see how wonderful your intentions are even from miles away.”

“I guess,” Dean mutters and he turns to look at Bray once again. “are you like one of those psychics or something?” The question is kinda off the wall, but it’s the only reason Dean can come up with as to why Bray talks to him the way he does. Why he wants him to see the goodness of his soul and whatnot. The guy’s gotta be _something_ to think he’s a good person.

“No,” Bray laughs. “I just have the ability to see what other people fail to.”

“That makes sense,” Dean nods, and as he takes another drink from his beer, he’s starting to feel the tipsiness settle in. “because I think you’re the first person to ever say that I’m a good person. Believe it or not, many people think the opposite.”

“Even yourself?”

“Yeah,” Dean admits, taking comfort in how warm he feels at the moment. Maybe it’s from the alcohol, or maybe it’s from actually getting some of his feelings out. He’s never really discussed himself like this before, especially to a complete stranger, but what the hell, he’s drunk and he’ll probably never see the guy again anyway. But, still, Dean feels like he’s talking to an old friend. “I’ve done some messed up things to people that didn’t deserve it.”

“Or perhaps they _did_ ,” Bray replies. “but you instinctively blamed their wrong doings on yourself,”

“You must be a natural at your work,” Dean’s head feels like it’s spinning when he turns to look at Bray. “you really know how to say the right things to make a guy feel special.”

“Most people need help seeing that they’re not ordinary,” Bray meets his gaze head on, and it’s almost chilling at how sincere he looks. “and with you, it’s almost insulting that you think of yourself as anything but extraordinary.”

“Key words: _extra - ordinary_.” Dean points out.

“If you say so,” Bray smiles, and Dean can feel himself doing the same.

\- - - -

One drink later, they’ve moved to a vacated booth, and Dean is standing on the thin line between outrageously tipsy and completely drunk. He doesn’t know if Bray’s feeling the same way, since he’s still talking and acting the way he did when he first spoke to Dean.

Dean’s speech is becoming a little more slurred, and his eyes have to take a little more time to catch up with his surroundings, and Bray seems like the most interesting person to talk to when drunk.

“So what made you go into the charity business,” Dean asks. “most people have a reason for that sort of thing. Like they ran over their kid with their car, or something.”

“It was Abigail’s purpose for me,” Bray says, almost humbly. “when she passed, her work was still not completed, so I work to finish what she started.”

“Abigail?”

“Abigail,”

There’s this hint to Bray’s tone that warns Dean away from the subject. So, Dean doesn’t press any further.

“What’s your reason for fighting?” Bray changes the subject almost immediately, and Dean pretends not to notice. “Most people have a reason for that line of work as well,”

“It’s all I know, basically,” Dean shrugs. “been doing it since before I can remember. It’s my outlet.”

“An outlet is good,” Bray nods. “keeps your demons in the dark.”

“You seem to know a lot about that kind of stuff,” Dean replies, taking a sip of his drink. “demons, I mean.”

“The only demon I’ve ever known was my father, and he was the most malicious man I ever did have the unfortune of knowing.”

“My father, he, uh,” Dean hesitates as he avoids Bray’s eyes to peer down at his drink. “I wouldn’t go along the lines of saying he’s a _demon_ , but, he wasn’t around much, I was raised by my mom, mostly.”

“Touchy subject, I understand,” Bray says apologetically. “my daddy wasn’t much either, he and I, we really didn’t see eye to eye on most things.”

“What about your mom?” Dean looks up to meet Bray’s gaze once more.

“I never met her,” Bray replies, and Dean instantly regrets even asking the question. “she left the world when I came into it.”

“Sorry,” Dean offers Bray a sincere look to show that he truly is, and Bray spares a sad grin in return. “really, man, I mean, that sucks. My mom never gave a shit about me, she mostly used me to rub in my dad’s face. Dad went to prison when I was young, he would write me sometimes.”

“Well,” Bray says, reaching over and placing a hand over Dean’s. “she must have been out of her mind not to care about someone like you.”

“Yeah,” Dean takes comfort in the added warmth. “I mostly lived on the streets, you know, stayed with friends, their parents were basically my parents. When I turned 18, I didn’t waste a single second getting the fuck out of my mom’s house, I left and never look back.”

“When I was 18, I knew too much of what I shouldn’t,” Bray sighs. “My daddy, he was real mean, he isolated me from the other kids and dragged me out of school, he showed me what the outside was like, and I hated it. I hated him. I hated the world and everything in it.”

“What happened to your dad,” Dean asks, but quickly adds a “if you don’t mind me asking.”

“His shrimp boat caught on fire,” Bray says, and there’s this glint in his eyes that almost makes Dean shiver. “and I watched it burn, I watched him burn.”

“Sorry,”

“Don’t be,” Bray offers him a grin. “that day I learned a very valuable lesson. I learned that there is hope in this sick, twisted world. I learned that there is a place in it for people like me after all. You see, other people, they looked down upon me, like I was nothing, but I proved to them, I am not like them, and I am not what they expected me to be. I was better than them.”

Dean can find himself relating easily enough to this, and he starts to say something else, but the bartender is announcing that it’s almost closing time, making Dean realize just how late it really is.

“Shit,” Dean breathes out. “It’s almost morning.”

“Time flies when you’re in good company,” Bray agrees.

“Yeah,” Dean takes one last sip of his drink and stands up from the table. “I should probably get going, you gonna be here tomorrow?”

“Only if you are, darlin’.”

“Great,” Dean says. “I’ll, uh, see you then, I guess, nice talking to you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” is the last thing Dean hears Bray say before he’s out the door and exposed to the chilling early morning air.

\- - - - -

That next night, Dean sits in the same place at the bar, and he barely glances up when he senses someone sitting down beside him.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” Dean says.

“And miss the opportunity of having a fine conversation with you?” he recognizes Bray’s voice immediately. “Never.”

\- - - - -

Before Dean knows it, meeting Bray at the bar has become a usual ritual. He finds himself looking forward to their late night chats about nothing and everything, and it’s comforting to know that someone will just listen to his bullshit with no complaints.

It’s nice the way Bray just silently listens when Dean talks, focused in like Dean’s the most interesting person in the world. Dean knows that’s probably the farthest thing from the truth, but it’s nice to live in the illusion for a few stolen moments.

And while some of the things Bray says might considerably be a little...odd, it makes Dean feel warm and confident. He’s never been spoken to like Bray speaks to him.

One night, it’s pouring rain, and Dean’s standing outside on the bar’s front porch with Bray, the two of them enjoying a comfortable silence. Bray’s leaning against the railing, watching Dean stare out blankly into the night. Everyone else is inside the bar, leaving Bray and Dean alone to listen to the crickets and the muffled music coming from inside.

“Nice night,” Dean comments, his voice coming out slightly hoarse, and he clears his throat.

“That it is,” Bray replies, his gaze never leaving Dean’s face.

Remembering what he came out here in the first place for, Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out his packet of cigarettes, shakes out one, and lights it.

“Haven’t you heard,” Bray watches the smoke curl out from between Dean’s lips. “those things will kill you, love.”

“What if I’m already dead?” Dean replies easily enough, turning to look at the other man.

“You’re not,” Bray says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which it is physically, but mentally, sometimes, Dean’s not so sure. Some days, he feels like an empty shell of himself, a zombie, almost. “you’re still very much alive, I can see it in your eyes, you know.”

Dean finds himself enamored with the sentence, but he doesn’t let on. He just mumbles out an almost inaudible “I guess,” before taking a few more drags off his cigarette and they return inside the bar.

\- - - - -

Over time, it slowly starts to sink in that maybe Bray’s interested in him. It probably should have been a dead giveaway just on the nicknames Bray’s settled to calling him, alone. Which, Dean doesn’t mind, he enjoys Bray’s company.

And if Bray is flirting with him, Dean doesn’t care. Sometimes, Dean finds himself flirting back. There’s no harm in it.

Dean likes the way Bray looks at him like there’s no other person in the world besides him. He likes the way Bray says things about him that makes him feel more important than he’s ever felt before. Bray makes Dean feel good, about himself, about everything, and if the guy’s interested in him, so what, maybe Dean’s interested too.

It takes a couple of more nights and Dean feels like he can talk to Bray about anything, and the alcohol is certainly a lubricant, but overall, Dean trusts Bray.

And it’s not long before everything’s out on the table when it comes to their conversations, including Dean’s past relationships, which he’s never really talked about with anybody, but he feels that Bray understands and won’t judge.

“It’s just that sometimes I wonder who’s arms I would fall into if I were to be in a room with everyone I’ve ever loved.” Dean sighs, finishing up a story that maybe only a few ears have heard. He glances over at Bray, and his expression is understanding.

“Love is the most dangerous weapon there is,” Bray says. “it can cause the greatest pain.”

“I mean, I dunno, I understand that it’s my fault too, because I fuck up when it comes to relationships,” Dean continues, the words falling out at this point. “Seth, I fucked that up. I did some real shitty things to him back in the day, and I actually let myself believe that he would forgive me. I used to praise Seth in his mental ability, you know, I mean, he was the logical one, the _architect_ , or whatever the hell they called him. But, I was still so fucking shocked when I found out the guy had been holding a grudge against me for all these years, and was just waiting for the right time to get back at me.”

Silence hangs between them as Bray allows Dean to pull himself together.

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs, running his hands over his face. “It’s like, I know relationships are totally not my thing, but I can’t help but fall right back into them, and it’s me that makes them leave, every single fucking time.”

“You seem to fall in love with illusions instead of reality, darlin’,” Bray says gently. “You don’t want to see what’s truly there, you won’t let yourself. You want them to be gentle while ripping you apart, to kiss their knuckles before punching you in the face.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, and he knows Bray’s words are true. “but I’ve done some real fucked up things to those people, and I expect them to forgive me. I basically tormented Seth, I mean, no wonder he fucking left. Roman didn’t deserve it, but I sure as hell did. But, what does it matter, I’m going to hell anyway, there’s no use in trying to change the past,”

“So am I, love,” Bray grabs Dean’s hand unexpectedly, but Dean doesn’t pull away. “we can go together.”

Dean tries to reply to this, but the words never come. Bray’s staring at him with this unreadable expression, their fingers laced tightly together, and maybe it’s the alcohol in his system, but Dean has to squash down the urge to kiss him right in that very moment.

“I’ve done things you couldn’t imagine, but people can change, and you have to learn to move on and stop blaming yourself,” Bray’s voice is barely a whisper. “you’re a good person, darlin’, your soul is as beautiful as your face, and it’s time you see that.”

Bray’s expression is painfully sincere, so much, in fact, that Dean can’t stop himself from leaning over and pressing his lips against Bray’s. Once he realizes what’s happening, he starts to pull away, an apology ready on his lips, but he feels Bray’s hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer. Bray responds to the kiss completely.

But, Dean has to draw back, before things get out of hand, and his pulse is thumping, and he can’t bring himself to make eye contact with Bray.

The moment happened too fast, Dean’s confused, and he can feel Bray’s stare burning through him. He has to get out here. He needs some time to think, to breathe.

Before Bray can say anything, Dean stands up from the table, mumbling out an excuse as he grabs his coat from the back of his chair and heads out the door, not sparing so much as a glance behind him.

\- - - - -

The next night, Dean’s surprised to see Bray waiting for him at the bar. To be honest, Dean didn’t think Bray would be there, but he had to come down and at least see, and he’s glad that he was wrong.

The two of them pick up a conversation easily enough, as if nothing happened last night, and Dean’s relieved.

But, he’s also afraid that his actions were taken the wrong way, because after some thought, Dean realized that he does in fact like Bray, maybe he’s even into him, and overall, he doesn’t regret kissing him.

The night carries on as usual, Bray shamelessly flirting with Dean, and Dean shamelessly flirting right back. Sometime later, the bar gets a little more crowded, and Dean and Bray are back out on the porch.

It’s still barely light outside, the sun is setting, and the street lamps are just now being turned on. Dean’s leaning over the railing, Bray watching him as he stares out at the Las Vegas scenery. He notices the faint hint of the moon in the sky.

“I’ve always found that weird,” Dean speaks after another wave of silence has settled between them. “how it’ll be daylight and you can still see the moon, and then you glance over and there’s the sun. Like the moon’s making sure the sun’s okay,” Dean shakes his head at how stupid the words sound, but it’s the hidden meaning that Dean’s mesmerized by. “It’s almost poetic when you think about it.”

“Even though the moon dies for the sun every night, sometimes he just can’t stay away,” Bray goes along with Dean’s theory as if there’s nothing odd about it at all. “As much as the moon needs the sun, they can’t be together.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles, he’ll never be tired of the way Bray can make even the slightest thing sound strangely fascinating. “never really thought of it that way, it’s beautiful.”

“And so are you, love,” Bray says, and Dean turns to look at him to see a fond grin playing over his features. “the sun can only wish to shine as brightly as you do.”

Dean thinks about kissing him again, but decides against it, and the two of them head back inside. The moment’s gone.

But it does eventually reappear, and Dean can’t help but seize the opportunity.

\- - - - -

They’re back outside, it’s another night, and Dean’s going over all the wrongs in his life again, a cigarette hanging between his lips.

“Sometimes I just need to feel wanted, you know,” Dean finishes with the cigarette and flicks it off the porch. “And I did feel wanted, back when I had Seth and Roman, but it turns out that everything about Seth was a lie. And Roman, god, he’s probably the most effected by it, I mean, he tries not to let on, but I can see that it’s killing him inside. The night that Seth betrayed us, Roman was the strong one, he helped me, and I, being the selfish prick I am, let him without so much as even thinking about how he felt. But, Roman’s not the same, anymore, like he’s stuck in his head, now, and I’m just waiting for the day he’ll leave me too. Nobody wants me anymore, nobody needs me, so I go out to bars and pick up decent looking girls and I take them back to my hotel room just so I can feel needed. I feel so disgusted with myself afterwards, but it’s only human nature to want to be wanted, right?”

“Of course,” Bray agrees, his eyebrows raised. “and I want you in every way there is to want a person.”

Dean lets the words wash over him for a moment, taking in their meaning, and he glances over at Bray, and he’s looking at him like Dean’s never seen him before, but the expression is familiar. Dean’s looked at a few people like that before, Seth, Roman, a few attractive girls he’s picked up from the hotel bars. Desire. Hunger, almost.

Whatever it is, Dean understands it, and he’s rushing over to Bray, grabbing the sides of his face and bringing their lips together into a desperate, needy kiss. Bray chuckles into Dean’s mouth, and slips a hand around his back, pulling them closer together.

Dean winds his arms around Bray’s neck, and the two of them stay like that for a moment, swaying on the spot, before they have break apart for air.

Their lips remain only inches apart and Dean's almost gasping for breath, but his arms stay locked around Bray's neck.

“Don’t for a second think you don’t deserve anything you want,” Bray says, his voice quiet. “you’re not selfish for wanting what you deserve. It’s them that have wronged you, not the other way around, and darlin’, I hope the people that did you wrong have trouble sleeping at night.”

Dean’s almost taken off guard, but manages to find a response.

"I, uh," Dean feels like he hasn’t spoken in years. "my place isn't too far from here." Bray seems to understand because Dean sees him smile. "Lead the way, darlin'."

\- - - - -

“Oh, fuck,”

They’re back at Dean’s house, in his bedroom, on his bed, and Dean’s astride Bray’s thighs, the dim glow from the bedside lamp illuminating the room. Bray’s fingers are digging into Dean’s hips as he guides his movements, and Dean can’t help but let a moan escape his lips every time Bray thrusts up into him.

Dean isn’t really sure how they got from point a to point b, everything that happened between them standing on the porch of the bar to now has passed Dean by in a blur. He remembers letting Bray drive them to his house, since Dean could barely sit up straight, much less focus on driving. He remembers getting out of the car and fumbling with his keys to unlock the front door to his house, Bray’s lips on his the entire time. He remembers opening the door to a dark house and the two of them tearing at each other’s clothes, and trying to make their way to the bedroom without tripping over anything in the complete darkness.

When he opens his eyes, Dean sees that Bray’s watching him scrutinizingly, his gaze focused. It’s similar to how he stared at him back at the bar, like Dean was the most interesting creature Bray had ever stumbled upon. But, Dean considers, maybe in Bray’s mind, he is.

Sweat is beginning to form on Dean’s skin, beading across his collarbones, and he lets his head fall back as Bray thrusts into him harder this time, his fingers tightening on Dean’s hips. Dean’s almost panting at this point as he grinds down into Bray’s movements, eyes clenched shut.

He hears Bray release a breath and Dean groans out as he rolls his hips forward again. His eyes meet Bray’s once more and Dean leans down to catch Bray’s lips in a deep, desperate kiss.

The atmosphere is peacefully silent, almost, and it’s weird, because usually, Dean’s a talker when it comes to sex, whether it be taunts or curses, he can’t shut up. But, Dean can’t find words to say in this moment, and he likes that he and Bray can share a comfortable silence and just focus on each other.

But, still, Dean can’t help but gasp out another stream of broken curses against Bray’s mouth as he feels Bray’s hand on his cock. He bucks his hips forward at the touch, a needy whine escaping him, as Bray slowly and deliberately strokes him.

Suddenly, Bray’s flipping them around so Dean’s on his back and Bray’s on top of him, but his thrusts never cease. Dean wraps his legs around Bray so they’re at a better angle and Bray hits a rhythm of just pounding into Dean, almost mercilessly, his hand falling away to cup Dean’s face.

“Look at me,” Bray mutters against Dean’s lips, and Dean obediently opens his eyes to see Bray’s burning right back into his.

His hand goes back to Dean’s cock, and a low groan tears its way out of Dean’s chest. Bray’s thrusts become more frantic until Dean feels every one of his muscles becoming taut, and he’s trembling.

Dean’s close to becoming undone, and the way Bray’s eyes are boring into his does nothing but turn him on even more.

Bray pushes their lips together once more, and Dean feels himself spilling all over his own stomach, and Bray follows behind.

Bray’s mouth leaves Dean’s to press gentle kisses along his neck, and Dean’s struggling to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” Dean gasps out, the words breaking off into a breathless chuckle.

“Shhh,” Bray hums against Dean’s skin, and Dean turns his head to the side, giving Bray more room to kiss at the sensitive flesh. The sheets smell like sex, as does the entire room, and Dean huffs out another laugh.

They remain like that, tangled up in each other, until Bray settles beside Dean on the bed, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer.

“I’m guessing it’s pointless in asking you to run away with me.” The words are so unexpected, Dean almost thinks he imagined Bray saying them.

“I wish I could,” Dean sighs.

“I know,” Bray says, masking the disappointment in his tone. “but I couldn’t call myself a gentleman if I didn’t at least try.”

“Where would we go?” Dean asks. He’s curious.

“Somewhere nice, quiet,”Bray’s hand finds Dean’s and laces their fingers together. “someplace only we knew of.”

“I think I would like that.”

“Maybe if we’d met in a different place, at a different time, we could have been together,” Bray presses a kiss to Dean’s hair. “Soul mates, even. Some call it destiny, some call it fate, but whatever it is, it could easily be considered the cruelest creature on the planet.”

Dean thinks back to what Bray had said earlier. “As much as the moon needs the sun, they can’t be together.”

“But, fate won’t stop me from checking in on you every once in awhile.”

Dean finds himself smiling at this.

“Get some rest, darlin’,” Bray breathes out, and he sounds exhausted.

“Okay,” Dean relaxes in Bray’s grip, allowing himself to fall into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years.

\- - - - -

The next morning, Dean’s standing out on his front porch, a suitcase by his side, a couple of hours before his flight leaves at the airport. Bray’s leaning against the side of the house, watching Dean as he locks the door.

“So,” Dean says, shoving his keys back in his pocket and grabbing his suitcase. “I don’t wanna sound like some whiny bitch after a one-night-stand, but will I see you again?”

“Of course,” Bray smirks, following behind Dean as he makes his way to his car. “if you need me, I’ll be here.”

Dean opens the trunk and throws his suitcase inside and Bray waits by the driver’s side door to open it for Dean to get in.

Bray closes the door after Dean gets in the car, and leans down to talk to him through the window.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Dean says, sparing Bray a weak smile.

“Not our last,” Bray replies. “if you don’t want it to be.”

Dean leans in and kisses Bray. “I don’t think I’d ever want it to be.”

 


End file.
